


Breakdown

by his_valentine



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Kidnapping, M/M, Mutilation, S8 compliant, Suicide Attempt, Violence, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-11-02 13:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20763974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/his_valentine/pseuds/his_valentine
Summary: [FINISHED AND REUPLOADED] If you're hoping to read a s8 fix-it fic, this isn't the right story for you.





	Breakdown

**Author's Note:**

> Keith goes off the deep end due to unrequited feelings and kidnaps Shiro. Things gets worse from there.

Some girl on TV had once said something like this - "On the outside I am smiling, but inside I'm _dying_," - on some nihilistic comedy. Keith remembered and deeply understood the sentiment now as he watched Shiro's wedding take place. From the sidelines. Just like always, when it came to this one part of Shiro's life. A thousand armies would fall before Keith would let anybody take Shiro from him again, but Shiro's weakness was his as well. So he'd stood aside as they'd flirted and gotten closer; so close, so quickly.

Another source of restraint came in the form of Lance, who'd gotten himself convinced that they shared a kinship in lost love. He didn't seem any more excited about the event than Keith did. When he actually did get giddy, his Altean marks would glow. Right now, the blue crescents were dormant. Maybe he too was thinking about how in another reality, this was his and Allura's grand union. Keith could almost, even though the mere idea sickened him, get what Honerva had been striving for. A perfect reality, where everything was the way one wished it to be. Of course, look where that'd gotten her.

At the moment Shiro and his husband kissed as they were officially wed, Keith scowled at the ground. There was applause and cheering. 'Why?' Keith thought sourly. The party kicked off into full swing after that, and Keith went over to the nearest corner to hide.

Pidge wandered over to him, munching on a fried chicken thigh. "Quit sulking in the shadows," she griped. Keith harrumphed at her as he prepared to defend himself, but then Hunk appeared too.

"You know Pidge is right-"

"Thank you Hunk."

"-you're totally sulking. Look, I get it. You still have a thing for Shiro, so the fact that he's just not-"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Keith snapped loudly, drawing attention. That left him mortified enough to activate his fight-or-flight instincts.

"You guys," Lance butted in, and once he had their attention he asked them, "just lay off for the one day, alright? Keith, you know they're just..." Lance looked around. "Keith? Good going, guys!"

Off to the side, Curtis whispered to Shiro, and then Shiro sighed and nodded before going over to the other ex-Paladins. "Is everything alright?" he asked as he approached.

"Yeah yeah, everything's fine!" Lance assured him, but Shiro had already noticed what was amiss.

"Where's Keith?"

"He, ah..." Lance choked.

"He went away," Pidge added on.

"To the bathroom!" Hunk finished. The other two looked to him, causing him to embellish further with, "He went to the bathroom, and will definitely be back soon," while nodding unconvincingly.

"Ok..." Shiro said, clearly disbelieving. "Just try not to cause a scene, okay?"

They all agreed to behave, and did as promised.

* * *

When was the last time he'd felt like this? Probably the first time he had thought he lost Shiro. Keith found those memories and compared it, finding that if anything, his current indignation flared brighter, hotter.

At least he was on Earth. The training equipment was simpler, but there was a thoughtless flow that he could only really enter while laying into a punching bag. Naturally, he toyed with the idea of picturing Curtis as the recipient of his pummeling, but that proved to only be mildly irritating instead of the cathartic relief he was seeking. He knew full well that in an actual fight, he would destroy the other man, who'd been here as a communications officer while Keith and Shiro were in space fighting a war.

Besides, Curtis wasn't actually the one to blame. Who could say no to Shiro's advances? 'At least he'd put up a fight,' Keith thought as the mental image shifted to that of his longtime friend. Hell, they'd already fought once. Keith had pulled his punches then, had only struck out for lack of any other options by that point, and in the process Keith had actually saved him. Shiro had said that himself.

So, it'd be more satisfying to have the opportunity to hit Shiro like this. He'd have to work for it, would probably be covered in scrapes and bruises himself by that point. Their adrenaline would be running high, just like it had been when he'd went and actually said "I love you," thereby actually putting the words out into the universe and giving this _attachment_ to Shiro power over his feelings.

Maybe it didn't have to be love. Keith pulled out his knife - of course, he'd hidden it on his person, even at a wedding. His Garrison-provided therapist hadn't made much progress in convincing him to consider leaving it behind while not working. He stabbed into the punching bag, right where the mental afterimage of Shiro's chest would be, then twisted it so he could pull down. Following through on the motion didn't feel quite right, but the flash of fear in Shiro's expression that he'd imagined just before the knife had plunged into the leather...

That was an idea worth revisiting, something he would give more consideration to. But before he could do that, Keith also realized that he'd need to remove the punching bag he'd just gutted open. Preferably, before anybody could directly link the vandalism to him. After sweeping up the sand and dragging the half-empty bag back to storage, making sure it was hidden behind a few less-damaged ones, Keith decided to retreat to his room aboard the IGF-Atlas.

As he got onto the ship, he prayed to Atlas that nobody find him for the next few hours. Especially Shiro, though as her Captain she might not humor such a request. Normally, though, he could ask for relative privacy when needed. Atlas' full capabilities were even now still being researched. One major feature was the shifting hallways. If somebody went somewhere with a destination in mind, it would always be just down the next hall or so.

In his room, Keith pulled off the stupid white suit with little delicacy, tearing a seam on the delicate fabric of the collared shirt underneath in his haste to forget about this whole ordeal. He wondered what was a socially-acceptable amount of time to wait before he could actually ask to talk privately with the older man and not come off as weird.

Probably never, if Curtis had his way. He still didn't see the appeal. Curtis was terribly domestic and mundane. He'd never known the forests of Olkarion, had never been drifting through the vast void of space and had the terrifying thought of 'is this how I die?' Sure, he was a survivor in his own right, but what remaining human wasn't? The Galra invasion had been decimating, something that would remain within their collective history as a species forevermore.

They were gonna get a house, the kind with a white picket fence. Adopt some pets, maybe even a child or two down the line. When asked about the possibility of continuing to work within the Galactic Coalition that he'd spent so much time and effort to initially build up, Shiro had claimed he'd 'had quite enough of this fight' as if it was really that simple. Keith knew he hadn't been the only one shocked at such a blase declaration, while he explained why he'd be working as a professor at the Garrison instead.

Stripped down, Keith started digging around for his Blade of Marmora suit to wear instead. Even if Shiro wanted to just leave everything behind for some man that nobody else knew, Keith would continue on his path. He didn't need the Lions around to consider himself a Paladin. So he'd just go back to work. Go back to helping people all across the universe, keep himself busy and useful to the causes that everybody else was so quick to discard.

He was gone long before anybody else had even begun to look for him.

* * *

"I could wait for you," Keith was saying. Before the wedding, he and Krolia had already been making regular drop-offs back on Earth. Usually, he only saw Pidge and sometimes Shiro out of everyone, since their shipments mostly consisted of technical documents from galaxies far and wide. In no small part thanks to Sam, humans were gaining a reputation as being really good at integrating wildly-dissimilar technologies from different cultures into marvels of engineering. Sometimes, though, the others would also gather at the Holt Labs in order to meet up with him as a group. For some reason, he had the sinking feeling that was the case this time. Even if not, Shiro lived close enough that he would definitely be there, and Keith hadn't spoken to or about him since the wedding he'd ditched halfway through.

"You should come," Krolia insisted, "it'd be good for you to see your friends," she was using her Mom voice, which meant Keith couldn't get out of this one.

Still, he wanted to try. "I feel sick," he claimed. It was true enough, though his ills weren't physical in nature. "Who knows what it might be? I could cause a pandemic."

Krolia rolled her eyes. "If that was going to happen, it would have by now. Come on, Keith."

Just as he'd feared, Keith saw that everybody else had gathered together to see him while he visited. Well, almost everyone. It both relieved and infuriated Keith to see that Shiro hadn't bothered to come, even though they most certainly would've brought it up to him after confirming all the others.

Lance must have seen the expression on Keith's face, because he was the first one to explain, "Shiro's on his way. He's just running a bit late."

"Huh," Keith said, though he thought, 'shouldn't have even bothered trying, if there's no time left for me.'

Somehow, irony saw fit to have Shiro arrive just as Keith was beginning to relax with his other friends. Tailed by none other than- "Hey, Shiro _and_ Curtis!" Hunk said, waving them over. Keith knew that a scowl had flickered across his face, but everyone present was polite enough not to point it out.

"Sorry for getting here so late. We were busy-"

"There was traffic," Curtis explained as he spoke over his husband. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, even back when the two had merely been dating. Keith thought it rude and dismissive, but Shiro hadn't once showed displeasure at the interruptions. "I know this doesn't happen too often, so I'll wait in the car." Then he smiled wryly and tacked on, "Don't take too long, love."

"It's fine," Keith groused, "I was just getting ready to leave." He withdrew the folder of documents and handed them to Pidge, who gave him a weird look as she accepted them.

"You were?" Lance questioned. Keith gave him a sharp look to shut him up, before turning on his heel and pretending not to hear Shiro stammer after his retreat.

He had to wait for Krolia, back on the Galra cruiser they'd come in on. She gave intel reports to Commander Iverson and some of the other tactical officers, which normally took about as long as visiting his friends did. By the time she returned, it was clear that Keith had been settling in for a while.

"The others said you'd left in a hurry," Krolia brought up. Keith knew he could trust her, so he took a deep breath to center himself before explaining.

"Shiro brought his..." Keith didn't justify it out loud. He wouldn't be making the mistake of speaking openly of his feelings about Shiro or anything relating to Shiro ever again.

"Ah," Krolia acknowledged that she understood. "Keith, you're still young. There's a whole universe of opportunity out there. May I be frank?"

"Frank?" Keith questioned. He didn't know his mother to normally hold back her words, so this was intriguing.

"Your father wasn't the first man I loved," she said as she took her seat, taking that as a prompt to continue. "I used to imagine dedicating myself to Kolivan."

"Kolivan? But, he likes you back-"

"Now he does. But I've grown past my whelpish infatuation with him. He was too late to make that decision," even though her actual words suggested complete emotional disconnect, her tone held a certain retributive nature to it.

Keith went quiet as they made launch preparations, trying and failing to imagine a reality where eventually he simply got over Shiro and... what? Married the first mildly-attractive person to make eyes at him, like Shiro had done? The roar of the thrusters covered up the scoff he let out at the thought. That wouldn't work. He'd never be able to connect with anybody who couldn't understand being a Paladin. Even out of the small pool of candidates that left him with, there was nobody else who had also been there with him, rooting for him, back when he assumed he'd end up just another statistic within the foster system. There was only Shiro.

* * *

The next time Keith was back on Earth, it was for an even worse reason. The Blades had decided that he needed some off-time, due to a few minor mistakes he'd been making. Mostly, he'd been walking around with a hair-trigger temper ever since coming back from Earth the last time. The final straw had been when he'd blown up at a group of refugees that were mostly orphaned children, for not settling down at bedtime. Normally he did great with the kids, given his similar upbringing, but they'd been getting on his last nerve that whole damn day. If was as if they'd sensed his general malaise and sought to aggravate it.

On their descent through Earth's atmosphere, Krolia made it clear that he was to at least get in touch with his friends, _including Shiro_. The previous Black Paladin had made a few attempts, both by call and in writing, to contact Keith. The calls he either ignored or let another Blade handle. The personal letters he tore up or burnt, without so much as breaking the seal on them.

When they touched down, Krolia did little more than give a wave to the landing pad operator as Keith disembarked. As soon as he was a safe distance from the craft, she took off again. Keith felt a distinct sense of abandonment as he watched his mother disappear into the sky, aware of the fact that this wasn't the first time he'd been in this position, more or less.

The Garrison hadn't changed, not at its core. Enough familiar faces wandered around that Keith was able to find out how he could contact Hunk or Lance. He didn't want his first stop to be at Holt Labs, even if it was the closest of the three options. His last visit there was still fresh in mind.

Hunk turned out to be off-planet on business. He was well on his way to becoming the first intergalactically-famous human chef. Much like Sam, he had a reputation for bringing together ingredients from many different corners of space to create universally-pleasing masterpieces. So Keith called Lance, next.

"Of course you can crash here." Lance had offered as soon as he'd gotten the gist of what was going on. "I hope you don't mind bunking up with me and Marco, though." Keith was very much used to having privacy, which was unlikely given the size of Lance's family verses the size of the home they all shared. That could be dealt with, though.

"I'll fly out there tomorrow," Keith had affirmed before they ended the conversation. It wasn't too hard to requisition a temporary stay at the Garrison until then. He was a hero, after all, and there were still a lot of empty bedrooms after the invasion.

What he hadn't considered, though, was how little people knew of him, outside of his immediate friends and family. Those acquaintances that he'd met up with had no reason to conceal the news of Keith's arrival. Just before he was going to go to sleep, he heard a knock at his door, short and quiet.

"Who...?" Keith idly questioned out loud as he slid out from under his covers to go answer the door.

Shiro had his right hand raised in greeting, looking about as awkward as Keith felt. Keith frowned, then glanced around. "Curtis isn't here," Shiro confirmed what Keith was seeing, "I know you don't like him."

"It's not- I don't..." Keith started to say, but couldn't bring himself to lie, even now, straight to Shiro's dumb handsome face. Shiro sighed, knowing that he was trying to. "Why are you even here?" Keith finally asked after they'd both gone quiet.

"Why didn't you ever respond to me?" Shiro asked in return, knowingly. Keith bristled. It wasn't a secret, not to either of them, just how deeply intertwined Keith's sense of self depended on Shiro and everything that the two of them had went through, both together and separately. "I know you knew I was trying. The calls, the letters. Krolia told me that you'd received every single one."

"Why don't you just worry about talking to your boyfriend or husband or whatever? It's not like you actually have anything important to tell me anyway, ever since you decided to quit on us," Keith finally let out all at once. Shiro winced, stepping back. The look of hurt on the older man's face brought forth a sick satisfaction, crawling up from a dark place that Keith was usually selfless enough to keep tamped down. Now that he'd already said all that, though, before he shut the door in Shiro's face Keith smirked triumphantly.

Before he'd even gotten back to the bed, he heard Shiro snarl before he started to pound on the door, still with his left hand sofar judging by the thumping sound of the impacts. "Open this door back up _right now_, Keith," he demanded in a tone that Keith hadn't heard for many years, not since the second time he'd gotten into a fight back at the Garrison (Shiro had thought the first one would be a one-time incident.)

Keith stood back and crossed his arms, refusing to dignify Shiro with a response. Shiro's pounding became more and more incessant, interspersed with verbal pleas that they could talk it out, if only Keith would act his age and let him in. Still, Keith just hung by and stared at the door expectantly.

There was a complete lull, but Keith found himself unable to relax through it. Sure enough, Shiro's next attempt was made, this time with his right hand. The strength he put behind it easily knocked down the whole door and then he was barging into the room, glaring at Keith furiously as he stepped over the broken wood. Pointing, he began with, "How dare you imply that I-"

"What, Shiro? What did I imply? Fucking tell me."

"I didn't quit, Keith, I retired-"

"You're not even 30!" Keith knew he was yelling way too loudly, but couldn't bring himself to care.

"_I'm_ tired!" Shiro yelled back just as loudly, just as unconcerned. "Look at me! I have white hair, one arm, scars on my face," he was motioning to each feature as he spoke, "I've earned this! I'm allowed to be selfish!"

"And I'm not," Keith added on as Shiro caught his breath. "Just you, so that you get to dangle how happy you are with _him_ in front of me and I just have to... what? Pretend it doesn't fucking hurt?" he asked.

"You're just not my-" Shiro got cut off again as Keith made a loud, wordless sound of disgust. Yeah, he'd heard that before.

"I've noticed," Keith scoffed. "Your 'type' is big dick, uselessly clingy, and dark-skinned. Sorry that I only fit one of those criteria."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Keith," Shiro spat. He almost never swore and didn't even believe in Jesus, so again Keith just smirked meanly, knowing he had hit a nerve.

"Maybe you should go," Keith then said, once Shiro clearly had nothing else to say.

"Yeah," he agreed as he turned away. Keith looked at the door as Shiro walked over it, then heard the officers who were just now arriving to see what commotion had been going on encounter the veteran lieutenant. There was a short conversation, but it was too hushed to pick up any details. As he reconsidered what he had said, Keith sat back onto his bed, head in his hands as he began to shake.

"Sir?" a woman asked. Keith glanced up to see an officer he didn't know. "You can move into the room next to this one..." she stepped inside before she asked, "Are you okay? Shirogane admitted to breaking down the door. It's unlike him to-"

Keith made an amused noise, then said, "You don't know him like I do. It's fine. Thanks for letting me switch rooms, though." He stood and grabbed his pack, which he hadn't bothered to empty yet anyway. The woman excused herself swiftly as he went down to the next room that was unlocked and went in.

Keith stayed up that whole night, replaying his last few interactions with Shiro out in his head over and over again, trying to pinpoint the moment where things had first begun to sour. He also spent a fair amount of time silently weeping, wishing that things could just go back to how they were, before Allura had... essentially died, in a way. He still missed her so much. He wondered what she'd think of this whole messed-up situation.

The next morning, Keith booked the first flight to Cuba, sent a copy of the itinerary to Lance, and got there two hours ahead of time. He hadn't slept yet, and now there was no point in trying until he was at least on the plane. There was a store at the airport that sold small sketchbooks, among other objects that could help pass the time on a long trip, so he bought that and a pack of pencils, grimacing briefly at the price. Some things hadn't changed.

The plane ride was tolerable enough, though Keith found that he'd reached the point where sleep currently alluded him. He'd suspected as much to happen, having plenty of experience with insomnia. He kept himself busy with the sketchbook. He'd kept the hobby up, refining and perfecting his ability to draw from life. He started by filling several pages with small doodles of the different species he had encountered.

He was trying to draw a generic example of a female Altean, but to his chagrin no matter how much he erased and adjusted lines and made an active attempt not to do so, he kept drawing Allura. So he just ripped that whole page out and drew Coran instead on the next one. Then he drew Lance, Hunk, and Pidge all standing beside one another behind him. Then he flipped to a new page again. He didn't realize how intent or furious his focus on his art looked from the outside, though the man sitting next to him did and felt mildly unnerved.

He didn't think about what he wanted to draw next, he just did it. He drew Shiro first, taking the time to fully render the fear on his face, before he drew himself, threatening Shiro with a knife. Shaking by now, he threw in an approximation of Curtis for good measure, lying at their feet with his throat already slit. As he considered how to incorporate Shiro's right hand, he realized he couldn't. If something like this were to happen, Shiro would intervene with the same force he'd used to break down that door, unless he just... didn't have his right hand anymore by then. Unfortunate, since Allura had made it.

Keith tore that page out too as soon as he decided he was done. With this discarded drawing, he also tore it up. He never did like depicting himself directly in artwork. "You alright?" the man sitting next to him finally had to ask, having glanced over once or twice to see what Keith had been muttering about as he drew.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Keith answered. "I just had to get some stuff out. Art therapy."

"...hope it helps," was all the man had to offer to that. Keith nodded, he did feel better. His next batch of drawings that got him through the rest of the flight didn't inspire any further strange behavior either, so the man sitting beside him also felt better about it.

He started to crash hard and felt like he was half-asleep, even while walking, by the time he got out of departing and finally saw Lance, surrounded by his family. They all knew of Keith, at the very least, so he immediately found himself being passed around for hugs, back-slaps, and cheek-pinches from everyone for a few blurry moments.

He finally got to Lance, who took the time to really look at him and comment, "Geeze buddy, you look like shit."

"Thanks," Keith mumbled sarcastically.

Undaunted, Lance asked more seriously, "When's the last time you slept?"

"On Earth? I think it was the day before Shiro's wedding," Keith snarked. Lance sighed.

"Well, we were gonna take you out to eat, but you're obviously so sleepy you're cranky right now. Let's get you to bed," he tugged Keith to where the family van was parked. By the time they had gotten out to the family farm, Keith was leaning against Luis, zonked out completely.

They got him to become subconscious enough that Lance only had to guide him to bed, rather than carry him. From Keith's perspective, though, he came to in a strange house, and briefly panicked before remembering meeting up with Lance.

As if mentally summoned, Keith heard Lance call out, too loudly for how close he was when Keith turned to him, "Wakey wakey, mullet head!"

"Hey Lance," Keith groaned. "When did I get here?" he asked.

"Right on time. About 7 pm yesterday-"

"Yesterday?" Keith questioned, even though it really wasn't that surprising. He did remember getting really tired right when he got in the van. "Did you have to carry me in here?" he asked next.

"No, you walked. Shambled, really, like a zombie," Lance mimed it, holding his arms out dramatically with a moan. Then he chuckled and assured him, "You were at least half-asleep, so I'm not surprised you don't remember."

"Well, what time is it now?" Keith asked.

"'Bout 11. I was up at 5 so I could finish my work early. Figured we could go eat out, now that you're not being extra grumpy." Once Lance had brought it up, Keith remembered that part of their reunion.

"Sorry about that," he said. A concern flitted past his mind. "Hey, did _you_ tell Shiro I was here?"

Lance's demeanor shifted, "No, but this morning he asked if I knew where'd you went. It seemed... I dunno, _weird_, so I haven't answered yet. Did something happen?"

"Hm," Keith thought to himself, wondering who else it could have been. There were too many potential leaks. It could have even been his own mother, in some misguided attempt to help them make up.

"Did something happen between you guys?" Lance asked again.

"Can we eat first?" Keith requested. They got ready to go, taking the smaller car since it would be just the two of them.

Lance took Keith to a favorite restaurant of his. They didn't speak English, so Lance took over and began ordering for both of them.

"What did you get me?" Keith asked as the waitress walked away.

"It's called a _pulpeta_. Don't make that face, you'll like it. It's basically meatloaf."

"Alright," Keith conceded.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, with Keith staring out at the street from where they sat out on an open patio. He was people-watching. Lance found himself looking at Keith, thinking about how much healthier he looked already after being here. Lance had been putting off his plan to come here after the war until now, since that initial plan had been part of a second date he'd been hoping for. One where Allura and he could take their time, unworried and unfettered by the circumstances of their destinies.

He'd thought being here again would be unbearable. But it seemed that to Keith, this was just a restaurant, one that he had no attachment to or expectations about. He was too busy staring off to the side, eyes following one person until they had passed by before flitting around to settle on another target. As he watched Keith watch the scenery, Lance had no clue that the two blue marks on his cheeks had begun to faintly glow.

The drinks were delivered, and food shortly thereafter. Keith inspected his dish, as if expecting there to be some catch. It was essentially meatloaf, though, with a delicious home-cooked heartiness. Lance had gotten the same. About halfway through his plate, Lance began to slow down so that he could talk in between bites.

"So, uh. Ready to talk about you and Shiro?" Lance asked. Keith shook his head, then quickly finished his meal. He'd always been a voracious eater. Sensing that to have been the hold-up, Lance insisted, "_Now_ are you ready?"

"Not really, but you're gonna keep asking. After I called Hunk and you-"

"Still don't know why you didn't call Pidge first."

"This is why, now _listen_," Keith grumbled. He didn't even want to talk about it, so Lance could at least be quiet for one minute while he did. "I got a room to stay in at the Garrison. Somebody, I don't know who, told Shiro exactly where I was and he came over."

Lance was nodding along, so Keith continued. "We fought and I slammed the door in his face. Then he broke the door down because I had said some really shitty things and-"

"Hold on," Lance cut in which, while irritating, was thematically appropriate, so Keith let it slide. "_Shiro_ broke down the door? Mister 'I need a break' Shirogane broke down a door in anger?"

"He still has a magic robot arm."

"True. Anyway, continue," Lance flourished his hand for Keith to go on.

Keith looked apprehensive about that. "We argued some more, and then he left and... they gave me a different room but I just wasn't sleepy after that." He really hoped Lance knew better than to ask about the details of their fight.

Lance sat back, taking in what Keith had just told him. But there was no way he could judge either of him until he knew, "What did you even say to him, Keith?"

"Shitty things," Keith reiterated. "Things I shouldn't have. He had every right to act like that, and I wouldn't be surprised if he hates me now."

"Ugh, _Keith_," Lance griped. "This is gonna make our next reunion so awkward."

"So just don't invite me-"

"That's not how a reunion works!" Lance yelped. Keith flinched under the momentary public gaze that was cast their way. "I really wish he'd gone for you, Keith, and I mean it. Who even is Curtis? But you can't force love. Don't give up on what you have with him just because it's not all of it."

Keith just went quiet, but he thought to himself, 'Why not? Don't you remember all the other times that we did the impossible?' The words that came out, carefully spoken, were, "I won't give up on everything that happened, Lance. I just need time to adjust."

"...Good. I'm glad. Just try to get it figured out before the next Allura Day, alright? I really want everybody to get together every time."

"I think I can do that," Keith said. The next lull in the dialogue gave Lance the opportunity to finish eating and pay for their meals. Keith offered to pay for his, and then offered to pay him back in the car, but Lance declined the offer both times.

* * *

Living with Lance for the month fell into a respectable schedule. Keith would help Lance with his morning chores, and that would give them time to play video games, or head into town, or just sit in their bedroom while Marco was gone and talk. Lance had matured and sombered in the past two years, which was understandable, but when it was just the two of them he shifted closer to being just as boisterous, energetic, and mildly obnoxious as ever.

After a family lunch came afternoon chores, which often dragged into the evening and for the first week left Keith even more exhausted each day than any relief effort he'd been involved in sofar. Sleep came easy when he was physically worn out, but by the third week, once he'd gotten used to it, the bliss of slumber began to elude him.

He slept in fits and starts, stolen naps throughout the day for supplementation. When he was wide awake, in the middle of the night, he'd sit by the window in Lance's room and draw by moonlight. Art therapy, just like he'd said to the man on the plane. That's why he kept drawing himself hurting and controlling Shiro, page after page of it and with a distinct escalation of events that resulted in the past few nights' sketches reaching a pornographic level.

"...Keith?" Lance asked one night, awakening to a silhouette in his window. Keith's pencil stilled. "What are you doing?" he questioned as he sat up, still soft and tired.

"Drawing," Keith answered, voice clipped. "Can't sleep."

"Can I see?" Lance asked after shaking himself awake. Keith closed the book.

"I'd rather not," he admitted. Lance just mumbled and laid back down.

Within the next week, Keith was requested to join back up with the Blades. Kolivan would be due to stop by Earth soon, so Keith took the time mostly to bid farewell to Lance's family and thank them for putting up with him for so long. Of course to them it was no big deal. Lance seemed to be the only one truly sad to see him go, though. There was something hidden in the gaze he gave Keith after they'd shared their last hug at the airport, but if Keith recognized it he pretended not to.

When he met up with Kolivan at Holt Labs, just before they'd made it to the ship, Pidge suddenly appeared. As soon as she saw him, she stormed over and smacked Keith on the side, making him squawk in surprise more than pain. "That's for avoiding me just because you and Shiro are fighting!" she yelled.

"Did Lance tell you?" Keith asked.

"No. I waited around to see if you'd show up or call me after your mom-" Keith started to mutter that he knew it, "-said she'd dropped you off. By the time I gave up and asked Shiro myself, you'd apparently taken off. I only found out you were in Cuba with Lance this whole time two days ago!"

Keith shook his head. "I'm sorry, Pidge, I just didn't want to see Shiro and I thought-"

"He told me the things you said to him, Keith," Pidge said with a sharp look, and Keith grimaced. "It's not really my business, but... maybe you should let this little crush go now. It's unbecoming."

"I don't have a crush," Keith muttered irritably. What he felt for Shiro ran much, much deeper than that. "Anyway, I have to get going. Kolivan's in a hurry," he turned away and began stalking towards the craft again.

Kolivan gave them each a strange, unsure look, mouthing out "Hurry?" before he bid his goodbyes to Pidge and the other Holts, following Keith to the ship.

Keith sulked on the ride back. "I think it's best," he said at one point, "if I never go back to Earth again. Send me somewhere else next time you guys force me into a vacation."

* * *

He was checking his messages when he saw one that wasn't a report, or update, or request. It had the subject 'Hey Keith,' and a picture of Lance to indicate the sender. Keith sighed and clicked it open, reading:

"Hey dude,

Did you know that you forgot your things here? Don't worry, I'll hold onto your stuff. Now you HAVE to come visit again, cuz otherwise I won't give it to you. Hah!  
...  
I don't know how to segue into the next thing I wanted to talk to you about. I know that you didn't want me to, and now I kind of wish I hadn't, but I  
I looked at your sketchbook, Keith."

Keith felt his blood run cold.

"Why would you draw stuff like that? Don't get me wrong, it was good, a lot better than when we were on Garfle Warfle Snick (do you remember that?) Have you been practicing?  
Sorry, back to the point. You need to talk to someone about this, buddy. Definitely not Shiro, maybe not even me (but don't take that as permission to not answer me!) Have you been meeting with your therapist?

Looking forward to your reply, Lance"

Keith's first instinct was to delete it, but he knew that Lance deserved better. It was his fault for forgetting to grab everything. He'd been looking for a specific coat, and now he had an inkling that he'd left it behind as well. Besides, Lance had been nothing but kind to him that whole month. He was worth at least acknowledgment. So Keith leaned over the keyboard to compose a response.

"I wish you'd just thrown my stuff out. If you did now, I wouldn't blame you. Do you think you could just get rid of the sketchbook? Burn it, shred it, whatever. I don't want it back.  
If there's a red coat, though, that I would like back. Can you send it to the base? I won't be on Earth again anytime soon."

Keith paused, wondering if there was anything else to add. He could try to explain himself regarding the drawings Lance had seen. Anything that wouldn't unnerve him further would be a lie, though. He'd been putting off therapy lately and had no intentions of talking this out with anybody else. There was only one platitude worth adding.

"Thanks for telling me." After he had finished, Keith sent it out. He wasn't sure what time of the year it was on Earth, much less the time of day in Cuba, but with any luck, it was a busy time so that Lance wouldn't immediately see it and be able to answer.

A response came in before he was done checking the other messages. That meant Lance was either slacking or resting. Once he'd finished with all the actual business, he read Lance's second email.

"Won't be on Earth? Allura Day is in two weeks. You _promised_, Keith. It's what she would have wanted. I'll give you your coat then.  
I'll get rid of the sketchbook for you though. I don't like what you drew about Shiro. When you're here, can we please talk it out?"

Keith could tell that he had probably upset Lance. No wonder, either, since he'd forgotten about both the upcoming date and his promise to Lance about showing up for them. Damn it. He only had a one-word response to all of that. He typed in and sent off a simple, "Fine." Then he logged out and walked away before Lance would have a chance to answer.

Maybe right before this next trip to Earth would be a good time to look into those rumors of anti-quintessence pulse technology. It'd be a great report for Krolia to hand in, and if it could truly shut down quintessence along certain wavelengths...

* * *

Keith had been hoping to put off going back to Earth until the last possible second, but Coran and Romelle needed to be picked up so he and Krolia ended up actually setting off early, if anything. There was merely a handful of surviving Alteans, but Coran and Romelle were doing their best to help those few remaining. They stopped by New Altea while it was in the shade of its' moon, so Coran and Romelle were both much easier to deal with on the ship together than if they'd been fully awake.

Then again, they too had both been struck by that same somber aura that'd become such a part of Lance's demeanor after Allura's departure from this reality. Keith still missed her, but he had also begun to resent her for leaving them all behind to fall apart and start acting like strangers. Had it even really been worth it, if this was the reality they'd had to give her up for?

Earth smelled the same, though Coran remarked upon how particularly 'oxygeny' the air was this time as they all got out of the admittedly stuffy ship. Keith followed at the back of the group he'd come with as they made their way to Allura's memorial. It didn't take long to find Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge. This time, even Matt had made it.

"Where's Lance?" Keith asked as they all caught up to one another. He didn't look at Shiro, even when Shiro was the one who answered.

"Airport issues. I told him it's fine, we'll wait, but you know Lance..." Shiro trailed off, waited for Keith to at least glance at him, then his shoulders dropped and he suddenly looked a lot less happy to be there. Coran looked between the two, eyes narrowing in thought at their strange behavior.

The whole group conversation was a little stilted since everybody else had to tip-toe around the fact that Keith was going to stand there and pretend Shiro didn't repeatedly try to speak directly at him. "You know, Krolia," Shiro said to the other Blade instead, "I remember when I first met you. I'm glad that you've been helping Keith so much, now that I... can't."

"Keith has been doing more to help us than you give him credit for," Krolia remarked monotonously. She might as well yelled it for how self-consciously Shiro winced, though.

"Hey hey hey, party people! Keith, you made it!" Lance finally showed up, looking a bit sweaty like he'd been rushing to get there. He walked over to Keith and butted in right beside him, in between him and Coran, then handed over a red bundle. Keith unfolded his coat and threw it on, over his senior Blade uniform.

Lance's presence made it more bearable. Keith had the feeling that Shiro had talked to the other Paladins first, about their little spat, because they all seemed more inclined to stand with and engage in Shiro's topics rather than join in on what Keith, Lance, and Coran had begun discussing.

"This big statue... I wonder how she'd appreciate such a grand monument," Coran was musing, as he gazed up at the enormous memorial that had been made in Allura's likeness.

"You know, Keith. It does mean a lot that you showed up, even though you didn't want to. Allura would be proud of how much you've matured..." Lance sniffled and started to tear up, but his marks also glowed. "Sorry, I always get emotional on this day."

"It's okay," Keith mumbled, awkwardly. "I miss Allura too. I wish I had the chance to just... get to know her better. As more than the Princess she had to be."

"Yeah, that would have been nice..." Lance sighed wistfully some more. They then glanced over to see that Coran had naturally drifted over to the bigger social group and was now putting on some kind of demonstration.

"I want to leave," Keith admitted as they watched the others have fun. "Have I been here long enough to fulfill our promise?"

"Yeah, I guess. I threw it out, by the way."

"You mean the sketchbook," Keith said, just to be sure.

Lance nodded. "I can't forget what I saw, though. You don't... want to do that. Right, Keith?"

"Of course not," Keith said immediately. "I just had to work out some stuff... it's called art therapy. I was going to get rid of them either way." As he spoke, Keith finally actually looked at Shiro. It seemed like he'd gotten over Keith's dismissal, and was now laughing and joking around openly with everybody else. Realizing just how easily Shiro could brush him aside made Keith furious, though he was careful not to show it.

He thought about the drawings, and about what they had represented when he'd been working on them by the light of the moon all those months ago in Cuba. After everything, he merely wanted the same consideration and loyalty for himself that he'd shown, time and time again, to Shiro. After all he'd done, he felt that not only had those attentions been earned, but entitled to him.

"Hey, Keith?" Lance asked, and Keith realized that he'd been zoning out as he snapped back to attention. "Please, just... try to get over him. You don't even have to be friends anymore. Just don't hate him for being happy. You can do better."

Keith stared at Lance, then he got a frustrated look and suddenly blurted, "You could do better too. Why don't you try getting over your dead girlfriend first, before you talk to me about Shiro?"

"Wh-wha..." Lance looked blindsided by that, stammering as he stared after Keith, shocked and hurt. Keith huffed and turned to leave.

* * *

Hunk was the next one who came after Keith specifically. He cornered him in the mess hall of the Garrison the morning after his attempt to push away Lance.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you!?" Hunk hollered instead of a greeting, slamming his hands onto the table and using his size to loom over where Keith sat.

"Good to see you too, Hunk," Keith drawled, glaring up at him.

"First, I heard that you're acting grossly to Shiro and dismissive to Pidge, and then you... You made Lance cry, dammit! On Allura Day!" Hunk yelled.

"Lance always cries on Allura Day!" Keith was quick to point out. "The whole concept of Allura Day is just so Lance can feel bad about her ditching-"

The smack resounded throughout the mess hall when Hunk finally slapped Keith with enough force to turn his face aside. The soft chattering lull of breakfast talk around them came to an abrupt end. "You listen to me, Keith," Hunk said carefully, deadly serious. "If you want to do this, want to throw us _all_ away all because Shiro's just not that into you... then just leave, Keith. Quit lingering around, making everyone else miserable like you are, and just take off already. You always threaten to, every time things aren't going your way."

"Fine. I'll go," Keith muttered. "Now back off, or else."

Hunk leaned away, though he continued to give Keith a challenging glare. "Or else? Real nice, Keith. Leave on a threat, then. Asshole."

"You hit me first!" Keith hollered after him as he left.

He avoided them the rest of the day, not that they made any effort to stop him from doing so. Just one more day alone on Earth after that and then he and Krolia could take Coran and Romelle home. If it wasn't for them, he'd probably already be preparing to head out.

His tablet buzzed with a message later that evening. When Keith saw another message from Lance, he briefly considered deleting it this time. Ultimately, he opened it first.

"Keith,

What you said was hurtful at the time, but I thought about it afterward and you're right. I can't expect you to get over your stuff while I'm still carrying a flame. I forgive you, and I'm sorry for pressuring you about the whole thing in the first place.  
I wish that everything could go back to how it was... even if it was scary to be in the middle of a war, at least we weren't fighting each other.  
I think that we could both work through this, though. I'm willing to work on it together. We have to anyway, cuz there's no way to go back, so we might as well look to our futures. I don't want to be like this forever. Do you?  
If you want, maybe we could hang out tomorrow? It could be just the two of us again. That was fun last time.

Lance"

Keith sighed lowly. Leave it to Lance to be the only one still hanging onto him. He composed another short, simple message in response. "No. Hang out with them tomorrow."

His tablet ring-tone began to sound, the alert informing him that Lance was calling. Ugh, seriously? Keith dismissed it. Then Lance called back. Keith dismissed it. This went back and forth several more times before finally, Keith picked up, growling wordlessly in irritation.

"I'm coming over-" Lance began.

"Stop bothering me!" Keith snapped, already preparing to pack his things and go- somewhere. He could practically hear the way Lance rolled his eyes before hanging up.

Lance got to Keith's quarters from the hotel in record time, but still wasn't fast enough. The door was unlocked, and when he let himself inside he saw that there was no sign of the other young man anywhere. At first, he considered asking the other ex-paladins, but... Pidge and Hunk had made it clear that they'd given up on Keith's attitude, and the feeling seemed to be mutual once he'd learned the details of how it'd come to be that way.

Krolia, maybe? Keith had seemed a little distant towards her, too. He doubted that she would know, but she was the only one who would have any idea where to start looking. Lance called her up next as he headed her way.

* * *

Keith could be found parked in somebody else's car in a Denny's parking lot. The thought of eating made him nauseous, so he had just locked the doors and turned off the engine before beginning to rock back and forth. It helped him think when he was on the edge of a panic attack.

He'd thrown his tablet out the window the moment it made a noise, remembering that the damn thing had an Inter-Galactic Positioning System (or IGPS) on it. He didn't want to be found. The car was... somebody had gone and left their keys in the vehicle. Just like Shiro had so many years ago, back when they'd first met. Keith thought, maybe he should have realized he was dealing with an idiot back then.

Maybe Shiro should have responded like a normal adult and just pressed charges on him, sent him to juvie, then forgot about the whole thing. Should have given up on him then and there, _just like his parents did..._ The precision with which Keith could remember Shiro's voice saying those very words caused him to blackout briefly.

Keith came to with pain in the bridge of his nose and blood on the steering wheel. It hurt when he touched the small bruised gash on his face, and then he glanced to the rear-view mirror. It was about in the same place as Shiro's big scar was, though he doubted it was nearly as severe of a wound. Hopefully, it'd heal up completely. As it was, Keith had to turn to the side and lean over to drool out some blood that'd begun to slide down the back of his throat.

Had Shiro needed to do this when he'd gotten so badly injured? Keith realized it wasn't too hard to imagine. Poor Shiro, panicking like a wild animal and struggling to get air in through the blood as the Arena audience went wild. Or had it been during one of the many 'experiments that Haggar had been performing on him? Strapped down and thrashing until they tranquilized him and opened up his face to observe his nasal cavities.

Keith sat back up and started the car. He began to shake as he pulled out of the Denny's parking lot, feeling disconnected from his body as he drove. While passing by a bank, Keith took note of how late it was. He had been sitting in that parking lot for hours. It was surprising that he hadn't been found yet, if only over the stolen car.

Krolia and Lance had, in fact, been looking for all of those hours, but the owner of the car that Keith had stolen hadn't yet noticed, so they had no leads.

"He's been acting weird, Krolia. I'm just worried that he's gonna do something stupid. I can't believe the others barely even care. They told me to 'not bother.' It's like they don't even remember everything Keith has done for us!" Lance had been talking incessantly about his thoughts on the matter. Since it was Keith's mom, he even eventually brought up the sketchbook that he'd flipped through.

"The first few pages were nice. He's gotten amazing at drawing. It was almost lifelike. But after that it was... He drew himself slashing at Curtis, killing Curtis, and then he was taking Shiro away. It was all from a first-person perspective, and I know he meant it to be his own. There was a whole story to it, like some fucked-up comic. It just kept getting worse."

Krolia paused, frowning. "I'd told him to stop doing that," she said sharply. "That's not what art therapy is."

"Yeah, that did sound made up. I... have a bad feeling. I'm gonna call Shiro."

* * *

Shiro groaned and reached for his phone when it began vibrating, but Curtis reached out and grabbed his wrist to stop him. "You're busy," he grunted, bucking to emphasize.

"I-it's Lance, baby. It could be importa-hhhh!" Shiro faltered as Curtis slammed right into his sweet spot.

"Then he should have told you while you were spending all day with that lovesick eunuch-"

"I told you, hah, not to insult my friends," Shiro panted, even though physically he'd begun pushing back with each thrust.

There was the distinct sound of shattering glass somewhere downstairs. Shiro in particular startled badly, throwing Curtis to the bed in his haste to jump up. "What was that?" Shiro asked, moving to the door.

"Don't," Curtis warned. Shiro slowly nudged open the bedroom door and crept out, completely nude. Curtis stiffened again when Lance called back just as the first attempt timed out. Picking it up, he asked sharply, in a whisper, "What do you want? We were, and still are, busy."

"Where's Shiro?" Lance asked. Curtis sounded weird to him, though, like he was trying to stay quiet.

"Somebody broke our window, so he's just a little busy with that. Now, what do you want?"

"Fuck. I hope that's not Keith," Lance groaned.

"What? He better not have-" there was more crashing downstairs, sounding suspiciously like a struggle across the living room. Curtis dropped Shiro's tablet and got up, calling out for his husband as he faded out on Lance's end.

From the top of the stairs Curtis could see Shiro, backing away and on the defensive as Keith advanced, wielding his arm against him like a club. His shoulder cap had some device stuck to it that seemed to interfere with the signal to and from his right hand. "Takashi!" Curtis shouted.

Keith's focus snapped, and he showed his teeth at the sight of Curtis on the stairwell. "About time you showed up," he said. Curtis made a noise of disgust at the mess Keith was. He'd bled all over himself on the way over, and his eyes looked wild and inhuman. The way he moved wasn't normal either. One second, Curtis was at the top of the stairs, watching them from high above. The next moment, Keith was up there with him, reaching in from where he was hanging off the railings and pulling him out over it.

"Keith!" Curtis heard Shiro yell before his head reached the floor and things went black for him. With ease, Keith twisted and jumped down from where he'd clambered halfway up the stairwell from the side, nudging Curtis with a foot.

"Well, maybe he doesn't have to die," Keith muttered when he saw that Curtis continued to breathe.

"I've had it-!" Shiro didn't get to finish whatever he was going to say. Keith pulled out a remote and turned a dial. The intense itchy static that had replaced his right hand began to spread out until he couldn't function past the fuzziness anymore. He remained conscious but unable to move as Keith dragged him out to the car and threw him in the trunk.

Right before he headed out, Keith turned up the remote's dial again, broadening the wavelength just until Shiro had stopped making tiny, terrified noises from the back of the car. He drove fast and hard, knowing that now he was on a time limit. Eventually, Curtis was bound to either come to or be found. The initial plan had been to frame Shiro by using his disconnected arm as the murder weapon, but he'd lost the urge to follow through on that once he saw how easily the other man broke from a relatively short fall.

He got to the launch pads just outside of the Garrison, trying to play it cool as he flashed his ID to the automatic guard and drove in, pulling right up next to the ship that he'd come in on. He was shaking with disbelief that he'd made it this far, looking around wildly as he jumped into the ship briefly to open its bay door, and then back out so he could drive the whole car into the cargo hold. Better to do it like that, than risk anybody seeing what the car had inside.

A departing spacecraft was never too hard to see, especially since they were so close. Lance was the first to see it, but he just stared after it with a pained, horrified grimace.

"Oh, no," Pidge said as she took notice next of what Lance had seen. "Krolia, please, tell me that isn't..."

"That's our vessel," Krolia confirmed, just as loathe to do so. They'd all gathered at Shiro's house once Lance and she had discovered the scene. An ambulance had come by to assist and transport Curtis Shirogane to the nearest hospital, but the prognosis wasn't good.

* * *

Shiro came to in a cave. At first, the faintly flickering orange lights caused him to believe there were candles, though it was awfully cold for how many it would take to get this bright. Then he noticed that the dancing yellowish tendrils above his head, embedded into the rocky ceiling, were patches of a luminescent, writhing grass. So, he wasn't on Earth anymore.

"Shiro," Keith said. Shiro sat up and spun to him, growling. Keith had taken a seat on a rock nearby, and there were papers scattered around. On the ones that had fallen to the ground face-up, Shiro saw drawings of himself in various states of undress and anguish. Keith still hadn't cleaned himself up, either, the dried blood on his chin and neck flaking off of its own accord.

"You..." Shiro began, as he started to remember what had led up to this. Keith had ambushed him from inside the house while he was inspecting the busted window. He was still nude, and his right arm was still a useless jumbled mess of confused nerves, thanks to whatever device he'd been slapped with. No matter, even with just the one arm he still had raw strength over the younger man. Shiro let out a roar and struck out, lunging at Keith.

The chain around his neck stopped him short, choking him out slightly in his haste to attack. Keith tsked and drew his knife, then activated the full length of the blade as he stood, tantalizingly just out of range. Seeing this, Shiro backed up again.

"Shiro," Keith repeated, then continued this time with, "you've taught me so much. I think it's your turn to learn, now."

"Keith, please," Shiro whispered, sitting down and back once he'd hit the furthest wall. "I want to go home, Keith. Don't do this to me, don't you dare be the one to do this to me..."

"Earth isn't home," Keith said, shaking his head slowly as he moved from one foot to the other, swaying. "It's not where people like us belong, Shiro. I need you to understand that. Don't move." Having said that, Keith approached. He kept his grip tight on his sword, kept the cutting edge turned outward toward Shiro. "Did I hurt you yet?" he asked as he came to a stop just in front of him, crouching down and slowly reaching out his other hand to the older man's face.

"Don't touch me," Shiro snapped, turning away from Keith's touch. Keith blinked, like he was honestly shocked at such behavior, and then his expression snapped to outraged disbelief. He raised his sword, but Shiro saw the movement and immediately lunged for his arm. The wrestled for control of the blade, and it began to shrink and dull as Shiro managed to wrap his hand around the hilt, his big hand crowding out Keith's grasp. Shiro jerked it toward himself at the same time he threw his weight forward and tucked his head down, pulling Keith into a vicious head-butt.

Keith staggered back, hands letting go to palm at his crooked, bloody nose. He made a wounded noise as he spat out wads of blood, when he looked up he was expecting to watch Shiro come down on him with his own mother's knife. The sight that greeted him was somehow worse, Keith's blood froze. "Shiro, don't!" he couldn't help but cry out, even though it hurt his nose and he knew it was hopeless.

"This is what quitting looks like," Shiro told him, before plunging the knife into the side of his own neck. As throughly as he'd ever done anything else, Shiro tore it through clear to the other side, before collapsing. The knife fell to the ground with a metallic clatter. The shock of what he'd just witnessed causing his own pain to rapidly fade, Keith sprang into action to save Shiro one more time.

Keith dragged him back out, took him to the single healing pod in his ship and threw Shiro's nearly-lifeless body into it. The key word was nearly, the cyropods had become even more advanced since the end of the war and so it was a miracle, but not an impossibility, when the prognosis for Shiro turned out to be almost 50 percent.

* * *

His head was fuzzy, but for some reason he knew that the fact he was coming to was deeply, intrinsically _wrong_. Shiro struggled to move, and then he struggled to scream - neither one produced any viable results. His attempts, however, set off an alarm. The characteristic ding of a cyropod, signaling the subject's awakening. Shiro thrashed in the small space available to do so, but the thick liquid filling his sarcophagus prevented most of it. To his mounting horror, he also came to realize that his ankles were cuffed together, as was his singular wrist, somehow clamped to the back of the waist of the bodysuit he was now wearing.

A silhouette of a man became perceivable as it approached. Keith pressed his face to the smooth, transparent front. At the sight of him, Shiro recoiled, going still as he stared back. He remembered, all at once, how they'd come to be in this situation. Shiro shook his head in displeasure as he watched Keith reach for the control panel and begin the process that would drain and then open the cyropod. The weight of his own body was enough to keep him lying down as the fluid previously supporting him was siphoned away.

Shiro tried to tell Keith to go away, to leave him alone, as the pod slid open. All he managed was pleading croaks and whines as Keith reached in and pushed back his hair, making soft noises intended to soothe. "Shh, quit trying to talk. Stop hurting yourself," he was speaking softly, but his tone still held a dark edge to it, a nonverbal 'or else' tacked onto that request. Shiro quieted, and focused on how Keith looked. A little better, since he'd washed his face at some point and the scrapes were beginning to heal. He also looked skinnier, though. Shiro wondered if he could manage to get the upper hand again.

Keith was still strong enough to hoist Shiro out of the cyropod and over his shoulder, though he did let out a huff of exertion on the initial pull up. Just to be difficult, Shiro writhed until he managed to knock off their balance and they both went crashing to the floor. Keith snarled and rolled them until he was crouched over Shiro, hand going to his throat as he leaned down. The touch sent a shock of pain through Shiro's system, and he yelped and bucked and kicked until Keith had to back off, but then just rolled over and curled up, making airy wounded noises. After watching him for a second, Keith settled. "It still hurts, doesn't it? I don't know if you'll ever be able to speak again, either. Let me get you into a bed, yeah?"

After the initial flash of pain had passed, Shiro caught his breath and listened. Before he sat up, he tried a few more times to say something, anything. Each time he just made a different gurgling noise. Sitting up, Shiro kept himself curled in as he regarded Keith for a long time. Each time Keith would move, Shiro would flinch, which would make the younger man pause a while longer. Until, finally, Shiro's hard glare crumpled into defeat, and he allowed Keith to come over, tug him to his feet, and walk him to where the two beds were tucked away in the cargo hold.

Wordlessly, Keith clipped an energy-link leash from Shiro's wrist shackle to the frame of the bed. Shiro hoped that Keith would leave him to sleep, but of course not. Keith crawled onto the bed first, rolled over, then patted his chest and clicked his tongue. Shiro had seen before how Kosmo would react to such an invitation, by snuggling and laying across Keith - did Keith expect him to act like that? He narrowed his eyes, resolutely refusing to give him the satisfaction. Keith tried the motion one more time, then sighed and sat up.

"Don't you want the cuffs off?" he asked. Shiro balked, looking away now. Of course he'd dangle something like that as an _exchange_. Still, he refused, even kneeling to the floor in order to begin laying down. "Don't be like that," Keith groused, grabbing the leash and tugging on it until Shiro had no choice but to climb up onto the bed as well. "Here, since you're not ready to behave yet," he grumbled as he pushed and rearranged Shiro's lax body until the older man was on his side, facing in. Wrist still twisted up and back to his waist, ankles still held fast together. He didn't dare turn until he heard Keith's footsteps fade away.

When he turned, he noted that the leash was now shorter than it had been before. He could barely turn over without getting caught up in the taut cable. Every single position he tried left him painfully unable to fall asleep, as his knuckles began to dig into his back and his ankles felt like they were grinding against the cuffs. His arm started to twinge every now and then, later it went numb.

It must have been hours later when Keith returned, with a small tray of prepared Marmora rations. "I saved these for you. But I want you to give me something, first," immediately as he heard that, Shiro shook his head. Keith rolled his eyes. "Fine. Guess I get to eat this," he muttered as he turned and left again.

Twice more, this happened. Shiro could tell he was getting on Keith's last nerve, his expression becoming less disappointed and more infuriated each time. Each additional time he turned the meal away, though, Shiro began to regret it more and more. Hunger pains sat in, growing strong enough by the time he felt tired they kept him awake. On the third refusal, as soon as the footsteps had faded, Shiro broke down, ugly sobs that couldn't produce tears, and the clenching shudders it wracked his body with only reminded his stomach of how empty it was.

"Are you ready to eat yet?" Keith asked, on the fourth day (or maybe it just felt like this was happening once a day - Shiro might have lost track of time in the cargo hold of the ship.) Almost on instinct, he went to shake his head no, but some gnawing animal instinct halted the motion before it became more than a twitch. He stared at the food on the tray, teeth gritting as he realized he could faintly _smell_ it. He couldn't remember a time when such unappetizing food seemed so divine. Even the Galra had kept him well-fed enough on their nutritional paste for him to begin resenting the stuff.

Then, Keith was magnanimous enough to offer, "I don't need you to do anything for me in exchange." Shiro could have cried, and he did let out a thready whine as he nodded his head. "Fine," Keith huffed, dropping the tray to the floor. Shiro couldn't bring himself to feel shame over the way he tumbled off the bed towards it and began to feast without the use of his hands, ravenously at that. He was so focused that this time, he missed the sound of Keith's departure.

It felt like the next stretch of time went on forever. There was one point where the inertia of the ship had started to tilt back and forth - had they been flying this whole time? - and even spun once, as if Keith was dodging heavy debris or avoiding fire. Shiro expected to see him once the commotion settled, wanted him to come back and try to explain himself. Several hours later, he resigned himself to the idea that Keith wouldn't be back anytime soon. The worst of his hunger abated, Shiro laid himself down to sleep.

Even after he woke up, Shiro still found himself alone. After a while, he started to worry. Not only for himself, but also about Keith. If something happened to him, the chances that either of them would be ever found went down drastically. He'd rather place his bets on somebody becoming curious about a BoM fighter acting erratically rather than floating around in an obviously pilot-less drift. At any rate, he soon found himself... lonely, more than anything. At least knowing he'd soon see Keith had kept him from falling too deeply into his own ruminations. Now, he had every waking moment to think back on their time spent together, trying to pinpoint any red flags that should have warned him that Keith was even more of a ticking time-bomb than any of them could have foreseen. He ended up drifting in and out of consciousness several times, dreams blurring and getting all tangled up with his waking memories until he doubted reality altogether.

It was during one of his lulls in wakefulness when Keith finally opened the door, startling Shiro to full alertness immediately. "Oh, good, you're awake this time," Keith said, which sent a shock of ice down Shiro's spine. Had he really been that deeply asleep? Of course he wouldn't remember it, but he was almost certain that his naps had been sporadic and short. "Are you hungry?" Keith then asked. Shiro's stomach growled as if on cue. He hung his head, gritting his teeth as he struggled with his answer this time.

"Come on," Keith coaxed, coming closer. Shiro looked up, then sighed and glanced away, nodding weakly. "Alright," Keith said, and then he actually sat down. "Come here," he instructed, placing the tray across his lap and holding up the spoon. Shiro balked at the obvious - Keith was intending to feed him. "Don't make this difficult," the younger man then said, his tone dropping in warning.

Shiro didn't bother to try moving too much in his bindings, he just slumped to the floor and waited until Keith moved closer, instead. He tried to stare off to the side as Keith pushed the spoon into his mouth. Keith sighed and sat the spoon down briefly, grabbing at Shiro's chin and pointing it towards him. "Look at me," he insisted.

Shiro glared as hard and as hatefully as he could. The shock of Keith's responding backhand quickly wiped that look off his face. The look that replaced it wasn't much better, but it at least wasn't infuriating. "Quit trying to piss me off," he growled.

'Or else what?' was what immediately came to Shiro's mind. Since he couldn't say it, he communicated it with a roll of his eyes. It didn't even surprise him when Keith hit him this time, even as he was sent reeling to the floor by the force of it.

The horror of surprise came when Keith declared breathlessly after crawling to pin him down, "I'm going to take your eyes for that." Shiro went still, heart pounding. He didn't really mean it like that, right? He made a high, questioning noise in response, panic clear.

Something ripped beside his head, probably the bedsheet. Of course Keith had his knife all along. His heartrate settled as a thickly folded makeshift hood was pulled over the top of his head and tied off. "Temporarily. For now. You have to earn them back." Keith continued, and Shiro could hear it in the way he was trying to calm himself, trying not to go through with his most destructive urges right away. Then he left, taking Shiro's meal with him.

He did later try to work the hood off, but it stayed put no matter how much he tried to catch it on the edge of the bed. Eventually, he could feel the waste of energy, and stopped trying. The sensation of his entrapped limbs also came back, between the exertion and the loss of one sense. That started to become his most pressing issue, at least until hunger once more came crawling up from the pit of his stomach. He started to wonder just how much food could really be stored aboard a fighter like this, and if Keith had yet made any attempt to get more. He considered trying to slam his head into the wall a few times, maybe see if he could do some real damage to himself before Keith stopped him. Like removing the hood, it seemed like too much real effort to do. One thing that he did bring himself to try, was to twist himself up in his leash until it was tangled around his neck. But even when he did manage to get it tight enough, he'd end up rolling out of the perfect position just as he went under. Still, it was something to do, at least until Keith caught him.

He heard the footsteps rapidly approaching, but had been half-unconscious and so hadn't been able to do much as Keith uncoiled the leash around his throat. He got slapped again for that, the fact that he hadn't seen it coming made it sting all the worse. Then he was fed, roughly and without any verbal coaxing through the process. Spoonfuls of food were just being shoved into his mouth, and he couldn't bring himself _not_ to swallow at that point. "I'm not going to let you do that to yourself. You should know that by now." Keith told him as he ate. After that, the leash got shorter, though in exchange Keith started to visit him more often.

On the second visit like that, Keith asked, "Do you want to move around for a bit?" and Shiro nodded, though he wondered what would be expected of him in return. Keith unclipped the leash first, and then his wrist entirely. Shiro brought his arm to his front, hissing at the sting of returning bloodflow. Slender yet strong hands squeezed and massaged the muscle, until the feeling started to return to normal. Shiro could more or less tell where Keith was sitting, close beside him. So once he was certain that he could go through with it, Shiro turned and swung, hard. He felt satisfied by the impact under his fist and took victory in the offguard yelp that Keith let out.

Shiro had a different mantra this time - his patience had yielded the focus, and now it was time to stop thinking. Stop thinking, as he blindly slammed himself down into Keith's chest. He had to stop thinking, as he used his one hand over and over again to punch into the opponent beneath him. It wasn't worth thinking about why his fist became wet.

Of course, they both knew that it was near-impossible to knock Keith out, and quickly Keith also realized that Shiro had no intention of stopping after a lucky shot sent pain blooming across his nose - broken, almost certainly. He managed to fold his legs up under the larger man on top of him and spring them outward, throwing Shiro off. He growled, knowing that his eyes were flashing and his teeth were sharp.

He moved in, and though it was still a struggle, Keith ultimately managed to get Shiro's arm twisted around his back, in the right place for the lock on the cuff to engage once more. He didn't reattach the leash, though. Instead, Shiro was bodily and painfully dragged by the elbow back to the cargo hold, close to the cyropod. They would need it again, most likely.

"It didn't have to come to this," Keith said as he threw Shiro onto his back. "You never did take me seriously enough. I'm going to start taking away the parts of you that hurt me." Shiro heard something like a power saw start up, a soft metallic 'vwree' sound immediately filling the silent void of space. Shiro started to make high, thready noises of panic as he backpedaled himself to the furthest corner in record time. All Keith told him was, "Stay still," before suddenly there was something cutting - no, _grinding_ into the flesh of his left shoulder. He screamed and tried to thrash, but Keith had him pinned well enough to the wall that he wasn't able to dislodge the blade as it chewed through, slowing down as flesh gave way to bone. At least the Galra had used a laser...

Whether it took seconds or minutes, Shiro soon couldn't tell. All he knew was that he'd give anything to go back to it as soon as it stopped, because then he had to feel the sudden sense of matching wrongness on his left side as the arm fell away. Everything was so wet and warm along his side. He realized with a disbelieving laugh that it was blood, his own blood, and he was already getting dizzy from how much of it he was losing. Keith hauled Shiro's now-armless body into the cyropod as it went limp against him, quickly and efficiently. He winced at the fuel reserves that the operation would use, but went through with it anyway. Anything for Shiro.

He'd have to land on the next inhabited planet, look for food and hopefully a fuel source. Or perhaps they could ditch the fighter entirely - Keith had avoided the most likely haunts of fellow Blades, but the ship they flew in still cut a very identifiable silhouette that would be recognized sooner or later. He calculated his location, then brought up star maps and plotted a course to the nearest known starport. The intel actually suggested against landing within this particular system, due to a callous lawlessness that pervaded the cultures residing on these planets. That suited Keith just fine - far less of a chance that anybody who recognized the wayward ex-Paladins would contact anybody of importance about the sighting.

Later, just before they broke through the planet's atmosphere, Keith got up to stretch his legs and go prepare Shiro for landing. The cyropod had been able to get him stabilized, but unfortunately there wasn't time to let the wound completely heal over before removal. He made sure to skip the pre-ejection adrenaline shot, and carefully bundled the unconscious form of Shiro into a blanket. Then he looped a few belts over those blankets, ensuring they were as tight as possible without causing further injury, especially along his legs. He put a few things in a bag after that - his knife and Shiro's right arm, with the destabilizer now attached to that end.

* * *

Keith should have figured that this was the home star system of the Unilu. As he came in for a landing he could see them, a couple were shielding their faces with one of their four hands as they watched the Marmoran fighter ship come in. He'd never been good at lying, but... technically this _was_ a stolen ship. They didn't need to know the details of how he'd gotten a hold of it.

It turned out, they didn't _want_ to know. Keith wasn't obviously Galran at a glance, and as soon as he suggested he'd rather be rid of it, there were offers thrown his way as if they were doing an impromptu auction. One of them offered their own ship, recently maintained and fully-fueled. That sounded like a good enough deal, so after an agreeable shake of hands, they were swapping seats.

Keith realized that he'd technically gotten fleeced pretty quickly (by then, the BoM fighter was already leaving again.) The 'ship' he'd traded for was a naval vessel. On the upside, it had better living amenities, including a grill on the deck. Keith set Shiro out on one of the beds below deck, unhooking the top sets of belts so that he could be bared down to the waist.

Shiro woke up screaming, sitting up and trying to throw himself further forward. Keith moved back, letting him get it all out as he sobbed and shook, rocking back and forth rapidly. After a few minutes, the rocking slowed and then stopped, then Shiro looked at him. Keith saw the look in his eyes this time, with more than enough forewarning to step away as Shiro roared and lunged. He drew his knife, but held it to the side for now as he moved out of the way some more. The belts didn't hold so well now that he was awake and squirming out of them.

Shiro kept climbing to his feet, kept throwing himself after Keith over and over again. He kicked over the endtable, the dresser, threw himself into the walls with enough force that they started to crack. At first the attempts were slow and clumsy, but Shiro was nothing if not adaptable. Eventually he managed to corral Keith into a far corner and pin him. Animal desperation drove him to bite, sick irony saw that it was the scar along Keith's jaw that Shiro sank his teeth into and hung off of. Keith yowled and thrashed, beating against him and dropping his pack in the process.

The flash of white metal caught Shiro's eye, he saw the arm just peeking out of the open top. The destabilizer was visible. Shiro slammed the heel of his foot into the grey add-on, cracking it enough that the connection was re-established. Keith heard the activation and struggled wildly, but was unable to break free before the enormous hand was pinning him to the wall by the neck and tightening. Tight enough to cut off Keith's circulation, his breath, and then it grew tighter still. Shiro stared at his purpling face with an unreadable expression.

Keith's panic made him thrust the sword forward, plunging it into Shiro's chest as it activated. Shiro's legs buckled, but his hand held fast as he leaned forward, bracing himself with the hold. He pressed their foreheads together, staring into Keith's eyes and watching with satisfaction as they rolled back. He smiled, even as he squeezed down until something gave way with a sickening pop.

Shiro dropped to his knees as Keith's body went lax, refusing to break eye contact as they slid to the floor of the yacht together. Keith's head lolled unnaturally as Shiro shifted so that they were laying on their sides, still facing one another. Keith's knife deactivated and then fell from his grip, dislodging from the gaping wound and allowing Shiro's blood to pour out freely, pooling in between. His hand loosened as the rapid blood loss quickly pulled him unconscious as well.


End file.
